


Family Things

by syredronning



Series: bridge2sickbay [44]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: Winona sits at a table, in the kitchen, and she sits there for an hour already.It feels as if she could sit here forever.
Series: bridge2sickbay [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542673
Kudos: 11





	Family Things

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge drabble written for bridge2sickbay in 2009, rescued from Livejournal. All errors are mine.

"Come on, darling, it's Thanksgiving," Frank says and tries to shake her out of her stupor. "The meal's all ready, everyone is already sitting at the table."

Winona sits at a table too, in the kitchen, and she sits there for an hour already.

It feels as if she could sit here forever.

"Come on," Frank says sharply, and she hears the sub-current of frustration that is so often in his voice lately. She can understand him, really she can, she's annoyed herself about the way she seems to spiral into depression more with every year. Instead of getting over George's death, it gets worse. Maybe because she's not just lost her husband, but also her job – her future. The one thing she really wanted to do with her life.

She didn't want to have kids so early – George had wanted them. George, the family man. George, who dreamed about playing basketball with his sons, go fishing and riding and climbing and then teach them all about space. George would have loved Thanksgiving with his family around the table, turkey and sweet potatoes and apple pie.

But George isn't here anymore, and she hates fishing and cooking, and Frank can't play basketball and is a lousy farmer, that's why they are close to losing the land.

Frank wants the land. She wants space. Nobody here wants a family.

She could stay and pretend she were a better mother – but she has tried for four years and she only fails.

She could leave and return to her job before she gets too old and all the fresh kids overtake her and snatch the best positions. Yes, she could do that.

Yes, she would to that.

"Please – Winona," Frank says, frustration turning into resignation.

"Let's eat," she says, and gets up to carry the last tray into the living room, suddenly enjoying the idea of having one happy family celebration tonight – because she knows she won't be here next year.

*** Many years later ***

There he was, Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise, and he was on Earth on shoreleave and he could have just about everything he wanted, a cozy hotel room, a stay on the Copa Cabana, women, men – anything.

Instead, he was standing on Venice Beach on cool November sand and watching the waves slugging against the shore beneath the grey, clouded sky.

He had no clue why Frank wanted to meet him here, but he didn't have to walk back and forth for long before the man arrived. The surprisingly old man – the back bent, the hair grey, the steps slow in the sand. No comparison to the nightmare of his childhood, the drunken bastard who had made Sam run away.

The man came to a halt. "Jimmy," he said, voice weak and full of emotions, clutching both of Kirk's upper arms with his hands.

"Frank," Jim said, cool and a little hostile, making no motion to answer the half-embrace.

The man nodded, disappointment briefly crossing his features before he released Jim. "It's good to see you, boy," he said, looking up and down the captain. "You look so good in uniform. I followed your career in the news over the last years."

"You wanted to see me?" Jim said coldly, Frank's you're nothing still tingling in his ears, a statement he'd heard throughout his childhood.

"I got something for you," the man said and pulled something out of his pocket. "Had it all the years – figured I'd give it back to you."

Jim took the little golden pendant, snapping it open. There was an old-fashioned photograph in it – his parents.

"She wanted to hand it down to you, but I needed money at that time, and so I sold it. Bought it back later, because it just wouldn't leave me alone."

"You stole it and now you want to give it back?" Jim asked credulously.

"Yes." The man nodded. "I'm sorry, boy. I know I behaved like shit, but she left us all. She went into space and left me with the mess on Earth. I hated it. I never wanted to have children. I knew I'd be a bad father." The voice turned decidedly weepy, but Jim only shook his head.

"You could've sent us away, to somewhere else – anywhere else would've been better than living with you. But you needed the money she sent to keep your farm, that's why you kept us there. Only because of that." Jim put away the pendant. "You want absolution? You won't get it from me, Frank."

"I've got a progressive nerve degeneration. The clinic I'm staying at is close-by, that's why I wanted to meet you here." Frank looked at him pleadingly. "I'm dying, Jim."

"Sorry to hear that," Jim said mechanically. "But that doesn't change a thing for me. Good-bye, Frank."

"Jimmy-boy – please – I just want to talk to you for a while…"

"I'm done with you, Frank. I have been done with you for years. Fuck. Off." It was a lie now, but it would be truth tomorrow.

Turning away, Jim hastened up to the street, the pendant in his pocket heavy like stone.


End file.
